


‘A’: OF APPLES AND MY ANGEL

by Alexandria_Lin



Series: LOVE FROM 'A' TO 'Z' [1]
Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Best Friends, Canon Compliant, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Insecurity, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Maru-MA, Picnics, Romance, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 21,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27820003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandria_Lin/pseuds/Alexandria_Lin
Summary: ‘It all began with an apple …’, but what has that got to do with love?Yuuri and his entourage were out on a picnic, when things happen and … well … it’s time to face the bearbee pooh paints and come out with his feelings.
Relationships: Wolfram von Bielefeld/Shibuya Yuuri
Series: LOVE FROM 'A' TO 'Z' [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035765
Comments: 9
Kudos: 33
Collections: Maru-MA Royal Couple





	1. Of Apples and my Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:  
> I do NOT own ‘Maru-MA’ / ‘Kyou Kara Maou!’! If I did, Novel 18 would have been published by now, and our favourite royal couple would have their happily ever after already! All works are the property and rights of Takabayashi Tomo, etc etc.
> 
> This is basically just me letting my imaginations run wild. I love the royal couple to no end, and I am a sucker for every Yuuram moment, especially from the light novels. So here goes!

It all began with an apple.

OK, not really. When it comes to us, I guess it all began with a slap. You might even call it _the_ slap of fate, literally and figuratively, that landed me, average high schooler Shibuya Yuuri, in an accidental engagement to one angelic demon — or is it demonic angel? — His Royal and Most Excellent Excellency, Lord von Bielefeld Wolfram.

Yeah, me — unpopular average fifteen-year-old baseball lover, and I emphasise ‘average’ — who got flush down a public western-style toilet into another world, a world of Mazokus, where I am their 27th Maou! And on that very first evening at Blood Pledge Castle, I slapped the face of an angel for insulting my mother. I was already freaking out over everything that had happened and was fumbling my way through all sorts of elite dining etiquette in that nerve wrecking formal dinner that felt more like a military summit — because … average kid, remember? — when my last semblance of sanity set sail upon learning that slapping the left cheek with the open palm of your right hand is an ancient and refined tradition of proposing marriage amongst Mazoku nobility. And yes, it _was_ on the left cheek, if you really want to know, because he was sitting to my left at the round opal table and because I am right-handed and because his super-bishounen face is too pretty to be punched. Coincidence much? I told you so, it was the slap of fate. Oh the sin of hurting an angel … am I to be so punished as to be engaged to a guy? But I like girls!

What followed was a running series of angel boy versus average boy antics that would either send you rolling on the floor laughing (if you were Murata) or face-palming until your face is swollen or (if you were Gwendal) get an extra order of wrinkle deluxe … you take your pick! And when I say running series, I _mean_ running series. Everything from the ensuing duel, to all the crazy adventures and excitements, with him following me around literally almost everywhere … all along singing our hit duet of “you wimp, you cheating flirt!” and “but—but we’re both men!”.

Months past and nothing much has changed — between us, that is. And so we’re back where we started with the apple; the trigger of today’s episode of crazy. An _apple_ , of all things! Oh yeah, did I mention that just about anything can set Wolfram off? Sometimes, I really don’t know what goes on in that pretty head of his.

We were out on a picnic on the hills not far from Blood Pledge Castle. By we I mean the three look-nothing-alike Mazoku brothers, Gunter, Murata, my adorable daughter Greta and me. Yay me, for successfully dragging even Gwendal along to join us! It’s nice to be able to spend time with friends and family outside of work. After all, being the peace-promoting pacifist that I am, these are the things I strive for … you know … things like the peace and joy of quality time with those we care about … things that war and unrest rob people of. But seeing as our jobs involve running an entire kingdom, the chance to enjoy such leisurely activities with all of us together is rare. So someone has to push for it. Me! With Greta as my number 1 support, because … who can resist those adorable puppy eyes?

Gwendal and Conrad were indulging Greta in a complicated game involving loops of flower chains and the horrors of a trap lady, no doubt an Anissina-inspired pastime (cue the collective shudders!), while Wolfram was immersed in a book. You’d think that the one buried in a book would be the high school genius Murata Ken — but no. Instead, the reincarnation of the once Great Sage of Double-Black was gleefully attacking the mountain of mouth-watering fruits. So was I, for that matter. Having not been brought up in this world, my best friend and I can’t help ourselves — the freshness and juiciness of every bite, bursting with all manner of flavours — you can really tell the difference — untouched by chemicals and pollutions and the whole climate change crisis. Besides, I figured a sports guy like me would really benefit from a power booster for my body and Murata for his brains. And apparently, these were the very best the Kingdom has to offer, and Gunter was only too happy to preach the properties of each specimen.

“Wolf,” I called, “come join us! These are really good!”

“Hmm?” he responded, glancing over. “Maybe later.”

Right. Of course he wouldn’t be quite as excited as Murata and me. He _did_ grow up here as a prince, after all, and these weren’t rarities for him. All the same, I felt a little disappointed he wouldn’t join me.

“Ah, Wolf, come on…!” I tried again. “Here, have one!” I tossed him a large grape, which he caught neatly, barely lifting his gaze.

“Thanks,” he said with a small smile. He popped the grape into his mouth and move towards the mount of fruits, making as if to join us, but with his eyes still glued intently on the pages.

“What are you reading, anyway?” I asked. I tried, leaning over to examine the cover, but I couldn’t make out the title, as my reading skills were still average, and the script looked ancient and sophisticated. For some reason, I was beginning to resent the book.

“It’s an ancient account on the finer points of controlling and wielding magic. This particular author seems to have really perfected the art of it. It’s really fascinating, the way he dedicated his life to studying and observing the elements … detailing every energy pattern and how they interact with one another …”

Yup, that’s Wolfram for you, pouring over everything he does with all his passion. But that is to be expected of a fiery angel like him.

“Ah, yes,” said Gunter from where he sat across from Wolf and me, as he leaned forwards to take a look at the cover. “That is indeed an excellent source for the highly advanced study of magic.” Not surprising, I thought, given that Wolfram is one of the very best magic wielders in all of Shin Makoku.

We continued in this manner for a while. Wolfram would make comments on a passage he was reading, from time to time. Occasionally, he would absently reach out for a fruit without really noticing whether or not he got any. I was taking it easy on the fruity frenzy and was now watching my fiance, tossing fruits straight into his hand whenever he made as if to reach out. Not that I particularly enjoyed myself _watching_ him — oh, no, don’t you get any ideas — the way his golden hair shimmered in the sunlight, or the way his emerald green eyes sparkle with the light of keen intelligence, or the way his white skin seemed to glow—! No. Of course not. I just found this amusing — good target practice — and I don't think he even noticed. Gunter would respond, alternating between intellectual comments to Wolfram and extravagant remarks to Murata, who was still enthusiastically devouring the fruits. A little way off, Greta and her uncles had practically built a maze from plant materials, with some help from Gwendal’s earth magic.

I was just about to get up and stretch for a bit — maybe go recruit Greta for Operation Distract Daddy Wolf and give Conrad and Gwendal a break — when Murata let out a howl of joy.

“Holy pink bikinis!!! No way! This is unreal! Shibuya, you’ve _got_ to try one of these! These apples are to die for! Mmm, mmm!!!”

On that last bit, Murata’s voice rose an octave higher. Meanwhile, Gunter had begun wailing in horror that His Eminence is not to die — Shin Makoku can’t do without their Great Sage — yada yada yada.

Laughing, I walked over to where Murata was still in the throws of bliss and grabbed an apple from the pile and bit into it. It was, without a doubt, the best apple I have ever tasted. And I’m from Japan — Japan has good apples.

“You’re right, Murata! This _is_ to die for!”

To which Gunter responded most tragically with wails of woes over the imminent doom about to befall the Kingdom if His Most Precious Majesty too should perish by the most evil of fruits, the apple!

Conrad was trying hard not to burst out laughing, apparently having grasped that Murata and I didn’t mean to literally die, not in that way at least. To be fair to poor Gunter, that was some Earth slang that no Mazoku aristocrat would readily comprehend, and Murata wasn’t helping with his fit of ecstasy, which could very well be misunderstood as something else entirely (and I’m pretty sure he’s doing that on purpose). Gwendal looked torn between frowning in annoyance and smiling in amusement, resulting in a peculiar facial twitch that looked like he was severely constipating. Wolfram had lowered his book in favour of glaring at Gunter, as he was prone to do whenever someone was being sappy over his fiance. In Gunter’s case, pun totally intended, as he was profusely leaking his infamous saps, Gun-Gun juices trademark.

“Relax, Gunter!” I laughed, still munching delightedly on my apple. “That was merely an expression. We’re not going to actually die from apple indigestion or something. On the contrary, Murata and I will positively be shining with health.” I gave Murata a light kick to the ankle.

“Aha!” agreed Murata, nodding. He was still panting heavily from his overly dramatic apple-induced high and laughing fit at Gunter’s expense.

“I know! In fact, I think we should grab an apple each,” I added, thinking this was a good opportunity to get my growing daughter to eat something healthy for once, to balance off all those snacks and cookies she’s so fond of. And I figured this would work strategically to reduce the weight of stuff we would have to carry home later. “You know what they say, ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away’!”

“Doctor? Who’s this Doctor? A man? Another woman?” And there goes Wolfram…!

“Uhh, could be either…?” I said nervously, uncertain how to respond without setting Wolf off further.

“Why, Yuuri, you CHEATER! Why am I not surprised?! I can’t let you be, even for just a moment. You are such a flirt that you have to fend off men and women on a daily basis?!”

Oh boy! Now, maybe _this_ is to die for in that literal way…! Hurts…! Options are: [A] death by fireballs; [B] death by strangulations or other bodily harm; [C] death by tumbling off the hill while trying to escape; or … well, even if it’s none of the above (because I know Wolf never intends to actually hurt me), it still hurt that he would think I’m cheating, because I’m not — never have, never will. What? Don’t give me that knowing look — that’s a Murata specialty. I only meant that I have honour, too! Wolf is not the only one who has it, you know, even if his is infinitely more commendable, and puts everyone else’s to shame—! WHAT?! Ughh — seriously — do you think you can get rid of that smirk? I like girls! And we’re both men! Stop distracting me already — got some serious fire to put out over here!

“Wolf, calm down!” I pleaded. I threw Murata a desperate look that said, ‘yikes, help me out!’.

“Hahahahaha! Lord von Bielefeld, Shibuya is referring to a medical professional, not someone specific,” he explained, still looking far too amused for my liking. “Here you call them healers. That saying is meant to encourage children to eat healthily to avoid falling ill.”

“Hmph! Haven’t heard that one before,” said Wolfram, relaxing a little. “Though I suppose if it keeps Gisela away, it must be good advice.”

I can just about feel everyone silently agreeing to that — well — everyone, except maybe Greta, who hero worships the Demon Sergeant. Gisela in her element is truly a scary phenomenon to behold, one that rivals the Red Devil Anissina!

“Here, Wolf, catch!” I called, tossing him an apple. He caught it reflexively. As usual, I was entranced by the fluidity of his motions. Just one more reason to mourn over the fact that he refuses to play baseball, no matter how I’ve tried persuading him. With reflexes like that, he can easily be the ace of our team. Not to mention, Wolfram is the type with enough sheer determination to carry forth whatever he sets his mind to.

There was a sudden gasp, followed by a happy squeal, reminiscent of Lady Cheri. I spun around to find my daughter jumping with joy. Puzzled, I looked to the rest to see if they had any clue what got Greta so excited all of a sudden. They shrugged.

“What is it, Greta?” Wolf asked in that gentle tone he reserves just for her. He took a bite from the apple. He was careful not to stain the book.

“I knew it! I _knew_ it!” she cried, leaping into Wolf’s arms and narrowly avoided crushing the leather-bound book. “Oh, Daddy! Greta is so, so very happy for you! I told you, didn’t I? Greta did tell you — Papa Yuuri _does_ love you very much!!!”

Time seemed to have frozen. Everyone seemed to be stunned into silence by that shocking pronouncement. A small, detached part of my mind was thinking that maybe we might need Wolf’s fire to melt the freeze and allow things to flow back to normalcy. Then again, maybe I was the only one paralysed in — was that … fear? I could feel the blood draining from my face, as I broke out in cold sweat. I could only watch, as if in slow motion, Wolfram’s cheeks, conversely, getting redder and redder by the second.

“Your Majesty, are you all right? You look like you might be about to faint.” I heard Conrad’s concerned voice as though from a distance.

“I — yeah — I’m fine …” I was so not fine that I neglected my auto-comeback of ‘Conrad, don’t call me Majesty, you gave me my name’.

Even Greta noticed. “Yuuri, what’s wrong? Aren’t you happy your confession of undying love to Wolf is well accepted?”

“Greta? What are you talking about?” It was Wolf, ever the calm parent despite how temperamental he can be towards others. The only hint that he was unsettled at all was the red tinge on his fair cheeks. It can’t be helped, his skin is so white that even the slightest rush of blood stands out clearly.

Greta blinked in confusion. “The apple…!” she annunciated slowly, as if that explained everything, as if we were all being slow for not getting it.

“Huh?” Wolf and I said in unison.

“The apple? What about it?” asked Wolfram, looking down at the fruit still clutched in his hand.

“Papa Yuuri threw the apple at Daddy Wolf, and Daddy Wolf caught it!”

“Um, I still don’t get it, Greta,” I said, swallowing. I began fidgeting uncomfortably. “What has that got to do with … uh … um … anything?”

Behind me, Murata let out a soft “Oh…!” as though only just catching on.

“Your Eminence?” Gwendal ventured, lifting an eyebrow. But Murata seemed to be lost in thought, with his head tilted at an angle, catching the sunlight off his glasses.

I was too afraid to ask what Murata was thinking about — probably nothing good would come out of it. I groaned inwardly. Oh, please let it not be a joke between my best friend and daughter about me!

Greta was giving me a look that said, ‘seriously?’. No, _seriously_ , since when did my sweet little girl develop such a superior look…? She must have picked it up from Wolf. No one else pulls it off quite so well. For a minute there, I felt a familiar panic — is this where my baby girl officially steps into the rebellious age? She studied me for a while longer, as though to make sure I wasn’t joking or something. Everyone was looking at her now. We must have made quite a sight — with everyone staring at her with a strange look, while she in turn looked at me strangely, and I — well — I was doing that strange habitual fidgeting whenever conversation turns to my strange engagement. OK, that was a very strange line of thought with way too many repetition of ‘strange’ in — you know what? Never mind.

“It’s an ancient custom from where Papa Yuuri comes from,” Greta explained to the group at large. “A person declares their undying love and unwavering devotion by throwing an apple at their beloved, and if the intended recipient returns those feelings, they must catch the apple!”

Uwah! What the — what?! Whoa, time out — TIME OUT! What does that all even mean? Where to even begin? What — just launch an apple at your crush? From how far away? Like, is it that the farther the distance between pitcher and catcher, the stronger the devotion? Does doing a close-up throw count as cheating, or does that indicate lack of devotion? And what happens if that person just have terrible pitching abilities, and the apple falls short or misses by a wide range? Not everyone has accurate aim, you know. Plus, I highly doubt you’d go about practising apple-style baseball much. Is that a love doomed to be for ever unspoken of? And—and what about the catcher? What if they have awful eye-hand coordination? So even if they truly intend to respond favourably to the suit, they wouldn’t be able to return those feelings? How tragic! An even worse thought occurred to me then. If the intended recipient refuses those intentions, they would be hit squarely by the flying apple, good pitch notwithstanding. Ouch, bet that would really hurt! Why did it have to be apples? Why couldn’t they use strawberries instead? Or wolfberries—? Yeah, wolfberries sound good! Apples can do some real damage — solid and just the right size to be a projectile. Guess we should be thankful they don’t use coconuts or the likes. Then again, maybe it’s only fair and honourable to gallantly take the pain in a small acknowledgement of the greater pain of the rejected. Suddenly, a terrifying image of a persistent suitor came to mind, carrying a giant basket of apples and pelting their beloved non-stop. The scary thing is I can totally see Wolfram doing that — only, he’d have fireballs in place of apples! And fireballs, unlike apples, are more likely to be inexhaustible.

“Throwing … apples … as a … declaration … of love …?” I muttered faintly, still trying to process the information. I winced at my own stream of thoughts.

“Yeah! Isn’t that so romantic? I told Grandmother Cheri about it, and she was really thrilled! She said we should have an apple throwing festival to celebrate free love!”

The three brothers sweat-dropped at that thought.

“No way! I wasn’t declaring anything!” I spluttered frantically. “I didn’t even know we had anything like that in Japan!”

“That’s because it’s not from Japan!”

“But, Greta, you said it’s a custom from where I’m from …”

“Yeah. Earth!”

“Eh?”

“It’s practised on Earth, in a place that’s called something like something to do with oily substances — grease?”

“You mean Greece, Princess,” Murata supplied kindly.

“Yes. Greece …” she pronounced carefully.

“Greta?” Wolfram said carefully. He was looking suspiciously over at Murata. After all, where else would Greta learn of Earth customs that I have no clue on. Although, come to think about it, it could easily have been Conrad, who has been known to provide misconstrued information about my home world, often with comically disastrous consequences. “Where did you hear about this?”

“Uncle Ken!” Greta said smugly, confirming Wolfram’s suspicions. “It’s in the books he got me for Christmas! Uncle Ken read them to me while you two were away on missions.”

Oh, right! I mentally shook myself for getting so worked up. Greta loves storybooks, especially ones with adventures and intrigues. She’s particularly fond of Anissina’s Poison Lady series. But she gets through them way faster than Anissina can produce them. Wolfram and I struggle to keep up with her thirst for stories, all the while making sure the materials are child-friendly and has zero bad influences and so on. Last Christmas, Murata had given her a complete collection of books on Ancient Greek mythology — the children-friendly version, of course.

“Well? Papa?”

“But, Greta, I’m from Japan, even though I was born in Boston, which is still not Greece — but that’s beside the point. Point is, Greek customs don’t apply halfway across the world to the Japanese. Besides, Wolf and I are both people of Shin Makoku —”

Well, duh, I am their king, so, for all intents and purposes, I count amongst the people of my Kingdom, especially since I have chosen to devote my life to Shin Makoku and make it my home.

“— so forget being halfway across the world, this is not even the same world to begin with!” I continued. I was feeling very proud of myself for what I thought was a very sound argument, when the Great Double-Black Annoyance that is my best friend opened his mouth and spewed forth a torrent of infinite wisdom. That was sarcasm, in case you didn’t catch it.

“But, Shibuya, what ever happened to ruling with that ‘open arms, open heart, open mind’ policy? I thought you are striving to advance yourself and Shin Makoku to the forefront of upholding global citizenship?”

“Yeah, but—”

“Lead by example and all that, right?”

“Eee, but—”

“Look at it this way: if you can’t even practise what you preach with your roots on Earth, how are you to stand up for it here?”

I gaped at him. “That’s so not it, Murata! Earth is Earth, and here is here. They are just not the same!”

“Oh? How so?” He was enjoying himself too much at my expense. “Shibuya, you should know well by now that nothing is ever completely isolated from another. That’s how life works — every thread of fate weaved together, touching, diverging, converging, interconnecting —”

By which point my mind was spinning faster than the rotating blades in my Mom’s kitchen blender. As expected, this muscle-brain guy just can’t keep up with the High Mind of Shin Makoku’s philosophical blah blah. Vaguely, I wonder if Murata truly believes in every deep freaky philosophy he spouts —or is he simply doing it to tease me?

“Besides,” and now Murata’s satisfied expression was that of one who’s about to sprinkle the last icings on his masterpiece of a confectionary nightmare. Wolf would like that, the confectionary part, given his sweet tooth and all — but the nightmare part is all mine, if Murata’s evil grin is anything to go by. “You yourself introduced numerous Earth practices to Shin Makoku since you became Maou, my friend!”

“But those are important best practices like compulsory education and social welfare!”

“What are you saying, Your Majesty? Are you suggesting that love is unimportant?” said Conrad, smiling faintly.

“Ugh, not you too, Conrad!” I cried, throwing my hands up. “And don’t call me Majesty outside of office hours!”

“Lord Weller _does_ have a point, Shibuya. Isn’t love the very heart of everything you stand for? Isn’t it what brings people together? How are you a peace-cherishing pacifist if you don’t even believe in love?”

“No, of course not! That’s not what I’m saying!” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration. I got the feeling that this conversation has gone way off the maps. Sometimes, I have to wonder if my friends do this on purpose to train me in the ways of political gibberish. And, of course, that wasn’t the end of it, because, Wolfram, who was looking increasingly annoyed, decided then to pack up that aforementioned confectionary nightmare in one of those pretty boxes you get at fancy bakeries.

“You wimpy hypocrite! What was all that talk about love when saving the bearbees, then?”

I sighed and tried a different angle. “Fine. But, that aside, isn’t this a custom of the Ancient Greeks? If distance and space do not invalidate it, surely time does? We don’t even know if it’s still practised in modern day Greece! I mean, this was a very long time ago, right? We’re talking about — what — two … three thousand years ago?”

“You rule over an entire kingdom of ancient believes and practices!” Murata pointed out, snorting. “Heck, we even have a walking talking four-thousand-year-old spirit in our midst, making life difficult for all!”

Can’t argue with that …

“Moreover, Your Majesty, your very engagement to Lord Wolfram is born from a most ancient tradition that goes back even to the days of Shinou!” said Gunter with a small smile.

“Traitor …” I muttered darkly. The nicely boxed-up confectionary nightmare has now been tied up with a pink bow to match Wolfram’s negligee.

“Your Majesty — NO! I, Gunter von Christ, your most loyal and humble servant, would _never_ —!”

My frustration was boiling to the surface. “Come on! Everyone knows it was an accident!” I cut across Gunter’s protests.

“Oh, an accident, yes?” growled Wolfram in that silky tone that denotes imminent danger. I gulped. I could feel waves of heat radiating off him. “If you just so happen to get burned, it would be an accident too.” Sadly, that takes no stretch of the imagination and would not be farfetched at all, as Wolfram’s flames tends to burst forth with his anger.

“Wolfram,” rumbled Gwendal in a warning tone.

“Look, it’s just a story, isn’t it? Like the one about an apple falling from a tree and hitting that famous scientist on the head — Einstein, wasn’t it?”

“You mean Isaac Newton?” Murata corrected me. “Einstein came much later. That story about Newton and the apple is supposed to be inspirational, y’know, about how he discovered the concept of gravity.”

“Or like—like ‘Snowwhite and the Seven Dwarves’. Yeah, that’s it! That’s another story with apples!” I waved my hands around desperately, trying to get my point across.

“They are completely different, though. The one from Ancient Greece is a myth with cultural roots, whereas ‘Snowwhite’ is a fairy tale, written solely for entertainment,” noted Murata, but I ignored him and pressed on, as if he hadn’t spoken.

“In that story, the apples were poisoned. They were given to Snowwhite to assassinate her. So following that nonsense would mean that giving someone an apple is to wish them dead!”

“That’s why it’s a fairy tale with no significance or cultural relevance!” sighed Murata exasperatedly.

“So you’d rather it were poisoned, even if only symbolically, to get rid of our engagement?” Wolfram said quietly. His beautiful face was that of a frozen mask — which shouldn’t even be possible, given the very literal fire within him — but his emerald green eyes burned with a deeper emotion, one, I imagine, that no one should have the burden to bear, especially not this angel. Seeing that, the confectionary nightmare exploded in my face.

“Huh? Wolf — what? That’s not—”

But Wolfram was shaking slightly. Tongues of flame were licking across his finger tips.

“Wolfram?” called Greta in a small voice, too quiet for him to hear. She usually calls us by name only when she’s concerned and being very serious. “Wolfram, what are you—?”

“Fine, then!” he spat. “It’s just a stupid apple — but if it really bothers you that much —!” He made to gesture for the apple to burst into flames, but before he could—

“WOLFRAM! Bad Daddy — very bad!” yelled Greta. Everyone turned to her in shock at her outburst. She had both hands on her hips, stomping her foot in frustration, and she was glaring at both her fathers, though Wolfram seemed to be receiving the brunt of her displeasure at the moment. “You’re not allowed to burn the symbol of Yuuri’s love and devotion!”

“But, Greta—”

“No ‘but’s!” Yup, she was definitely channelling her inner Gisela X Anissina, and she’d perfected the combination, with Anissina’s defiant postures and Gisela’s Sergeant sharp scolding tongue! Wolfram weakly made to protest, but before he could get anything out, she cut him off. “Not only would burning the apple be disgraceful, it won’t solve anything! And, on top of that, that’s wasting food! That’s very wrong, Daddy, and you know it! You were the one who taught Greta that — to always think of others out there who suffer and struggle to make ends meet and cannot afford what we so ungratefully take for granted!”

I blinked. Wolfram taught her that? That came from the guy who swept his dinner to the floor in a fit of rage to challenge me to a duel? I — I don't know — I guess — he really has come a long way and matured a lot since then. I was aware of that. We both have. But, I don't know why it surprised me — not in an unpleasant way — to find that he drilled Greta in her virtues. I guess being a father really pushes one to grow, huh?

“You’re right, Greta, I’m sorry,” murmured Wolfram, giving her a small, pained smile.

He rose smoothly to his feet, and without looking at anyone, strolled over to our horses. I thought he was going to leave and return to the castle.

“Wolf …?” I tried to plead with him, with my hands out and palms up in a placating gesture. He ignored me and continued towards his horse. “Hey — Wolf …” I turned to my daughter for help, but she only glared at me, her expression screamed ‘fix this!’.

I was just thinking I might have to go after him — on my own, if need be — because it would be a shame to cut our picnic short and spoil everyone else’s fun. But to everyone’s surprise — not least Greta’s — Wolfram held out the slightly toasted apple to his white stallion. The horse happily took the treat from its master and nuzzled his hand affectionately.

Uwagh! A thought suddenly struck me. Wolfram had taken a bite from that apple. Not that that would ordinarily be a problem. But it just occurred to me that that was an indirect kiss! I mean, Wolfram is very particular about that with me — so, shouldn’t the same apply the other way around? Argh! Now, where did that thought come from? What’s wrong with me? And what’s up with us getting equine kisses, directly or indirectly? I shudder at the memory of the weird catch-Yuuri-under-the-mistletoe competition last Christmas, in which Gunter, Lady Cheri and Wolfram partook, only to be beaten by my black mare, Ao, who was let in by Conrad. Yeah, can you believe that? I didn’t know what was happening, having just gotten out of the baths, until Ao came straight at me before any of the others could reach me. Ao’s victory was recognised by the champion of free love herself, grandly stating that love knows no bounds, no matter who we are, be it demon, human or horse! I might have generally agreed with her, but for the fact that she was specifically advocating romantic, amorous love for me! So, no way! Not my taste, thank you very much. Then again, this is the Kingdom where a soldier is married to a sandbear, and the best swordsman once fell in love with a tuna with legs! All these peculiarities must have been rubbing off on me. So, it’s not that uncounted for that such a thought would cross my mind when Wolf fed his bitten apple to his horse, right? Gah! Snap out of it Yuuri!!! Just to be clear, before you ask, I do _not_ have a crush on Wolf’s horse. Like I said, not my taste.

Greta made an indignant sound of outrage at Wolfram’s action, but Conrad laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Wolfram was absently patting the horse’s neck while gazing thoughtfully up at the summit of the hill we were on, his mind clearly distracted. We had set up our picnic on the shoulder of the hill rather than on the top.

“What is it, Wolfram?” Conrad asked in concern.

“It’s nothing …” he answered, still contemplating the top of the hill. His temper seemingly cooled by then. “I think … I’ll go up there and do a bit of painting … there’s an impressive view of the sun up there.”

“Whoa — hang on — are you nuts? It’s the middle of the afternoon! It’s probably blazing up there — Wolf, you’ll get sunburned!” I tried to reason.

He shrugged carelessly. “Hmph! We’re trained to take whatever the weather, as you well know. A bit of sun won’t even make me uncomfortable. Only you would worry about something so trivial, wimp!”

“Hey, don’t call me that!” came my automatic response, even though I was secretly relieved that he did, because that would mean that he’s back to being OK. “And sunburns aren’t trivial. Overexposure to sunlight can have seriously harmful effects on your health — heck, Murata can explain it way better than I can …!” At this, Murata shot me a look that said, ‘leave me out of this’. I rolled my eyes at him and continued, “It’s one thing to be on military duty — right now, you’re not! You’re supposed to be on a leisurely family outing,” I grumbled.

“We may not be on _official_ duty, but that does not mean we can let our guards down. We are always on duty; it’s our responsibility,” he shot back, crossing his arms. To my annoyance, both Conrad and Gwendal nodded vigorously to that statement, Gunter following suit a moment later. Some friends you guys are, I thought bitterly.

“Urgh!” I hit my forehead, foreseeing another off-the-maps argument coming on if I were to pursue the matter. “I’m just concerned, all right? With your complexion and all …” I trailed off, because then he flashed me that angelic smile that can revive even the dying — talk about mood-swings! I could hear Murata snickering in the background. I sighed. “You’re not going to listen, are you? Do you even have your art supplies?”

In answer, he reached into his saddlebag and brought out a case in which I assumed were his art materials.

“Listen, Wolf, if it’s about earlier,” I blurted out in a last attempt to keep him from getting himself hurt like the self-sacrificing angel he was, “I’m sorry, OK? You don’t have to go up there just to hide away and avoid … everyone!” What I really wanted to say was, ‘me … don’t avoid me’, but I thought that would just be inviting trouble and mischief.

“Who said anything about hiding and avoiding?” said Wolfram coolly. With that, he turned and made his way up the hill.

“Hey, wait!” I scrambled to my feet. He merely tossed his head, flipping back his golden locks and walked on, back straight, without looking back. “Wolf!”

I tried to follow him, but was held back by a hand on my shoulder. I turned back to see Murata, also on his feet, shaking his head at me.

“What, Murata?” I said impatiently.

“Give it awhile, then you can go after him.”

“No, I should follow him and apologise. I don’t want him to just sulk away.” Sulking can’t be healthy for him. All that dark mood might make him wither away into old age — I mean, not that he’s not already eighty-two, or rather, eighty-three years old — but then he’ll start looking it, too! Not that it would matter, of course, because it’s not like he wouldn’t still be gorgeous.

“You won’t get anywhere if you just rush after him and simply apologise.”

“But—” I bit my lip uncertainly, still staring after Wolf’s withdrawing figure. “Yeah … OK. I guess you’re right … he probably needs some time …” because I was certain it was not at all unrelated to that damn apple madness.

Murata shook his head at me again. “Not him, Shibuya, you!”

“Huh? Me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s you who is in need of some time.”

“Time?” Now, I was confused. “Time for what?”

“To think things through thoroughly!”

“Huh? I don't understand … why would I—?”

“You need to think properly and decide how you want to approach this, Shibuya.” At my blank look, he massaged the bridge between his eyes. “About your relationship — about where the two of you stand in relation to one another — about where you want this to go from here!”

At that, I spluttered, my face burning up. “Wha—what?! Murata, don’t even joke about that!”

“Who’s joking? I’m being two hundred per cent serious here.”

“B—but—but, we were fine before — just fine — all fine! He’s just upset about the poisoned apple thing — though I don’t really get why — it’s just a story! If I could just go and apologise, we’ll be fine again.”

“Aha?” said Murata skeptically. “And go back to just being stuck in limbo? That’s not the answer, you know? If you ask me, a mere apology is not going to make anything better, at this point. He’s not upset, Shibuya. I really believe he’s up there to actually paint the view. Think about it … he did bring along his art supplies, so he must have had some notion to paint the scenery even before we set out this morning.”

“What do you mean he’s not upset? You saw his reactions to the apple symbolisms! He’s really upset — I can tell! And even if you say he had really wanted to paint, he didn’t have to go off and paint in solitude and avoid everyone. He could have just sat here and paint — the scenery is perfectly beautiful from here!” Though I can almost hear Wolf’s scathing remark about my lack of artistic appreciation at that … and to say nothing of the awful paint odours that would have surely ruined our picnic appetite.

“Or rather I should say, he’s not _too_ upset. Because Lord von Bielefeld has always known where he stands, as your number one supporter; he’s always trying his very best to be there for you and to help you grow into your own person as yourself, and for you to become the best king you can be as you, and only you, can. So to him, it’s nothing new. Because it’s not about the apples, Shibuya, it’s about the way you behave towards your engagement. The apple debate simply outlines that in symbolisms, not the other way around. This is not like the chicken-and-egg conundrum, y’know, ‘which came first, your engagement or that apple fiasco?’. You insist he’s upset and you fuss about trying to make it up to him, but have you given any thought to why you keep doing that in the first place?”

“Eh …? Erm …”

“That’s because the one who’s truly upset about the whole thing is you, Shibuya,” Murata said kindly, as though consoling a damsel in distress — which I’m not! “You just said it yourself, you were ‘ _fine_ ’. And that’s partly the problem, isn’t it? You were only _just_ fine, not great. You’re upset at the thought that your fiance might be upset. You’re upset that you can’t seem to make it better. And you’re even more upset that you were the one who somehow made him upset.”

“You’re doing that on purpose!” I scowled.

“What?” he said innocently.

“This conversation is beginning to sound like a broken record. Quit repeating the word ‘upset’ already. You’re giving me a headache.”

“I’m only making observations as your buddy. What you do about it is entirely up to you.” And with that, he walked away, leaving me with a mischievous wink. “Oh,” he paused to call over his shoulder, “and don’t get too upset about it, Shibuya, or Lord von Bielefeld will be really upset!” He was outright cackling!

“Gah! What was that all about?” I groaned aloud to myself. I shook my head, trying to rid myself of all the thoughts running through my mind. It was no use, because of course I knew perfectly well what that was about. How could I not? Because of course it’s about Wolf and me, and — never mind — just pretend I didn’t say anything!

Oh, all right, all right — I’ll admit it! I may be dense and clueless sometimes, but I _am_ aware of how I feel — not that that makes it any less confusing — even if I almost always censor my thoughts on that particular matter. For the most part, my account of my experiences are true to my thoughts — from my observations down to my thought processes complete with all my Yuuri brand analogies and references. What can I say? I’m a pretty straightforwards guy!

There is one matter, however, that I tend to cast a grey out over, if not outright try to omit altogether. But if I were to completely leave it out, my account would be utterly unrealistic. I grey it out, first of all, because it is a very private matter that should be treated with the utmost delicacy, even in an account of private thoughts. There is also that little matter that my accounts’ focus are details on my adventures as Maou, not rose garden romances (or rather, Lady Cheri’s gardens) that may or may not be. On the other hand, if I start talking about it freely, you might never hear the end of it, as I’m about to do hereafter. Call me overly obsessive, but you asked for it! Gah, what am I even saying? This whole narrative has been about nothing but _that_ , even when I don’t straight come out with it … as I’m sure you are well aware, with all your knowing smirks and arching eyebrows at my every comment. (What? Wait, wait, wait! No pun intended — _double_ no pun intended back there!) I’m talking, of course, about — well — my feelings for one green-eyed gold-haired angel, Wolfram von Bielefeld. There, I said it! Happy now? I think I should be awarded a courage medal! Because it took courage to put that out there … oh, yes … a whole lot of it.

How can I put this in an intelligible manner, and not just wax poetic on the innumerable qualities of my angel? Yuuri and poetry? Since when? That’s truly a horrifying idea! Love is scary that way — makes you do things you would never _ever_ ordinarily do!

Yes. ‘Love’. That’s what I said. Not like me to say it where it matters most? Yeah, guess you’re right. It’s a word, _the_ word, I do my utmost to avoid when talking about my fiance, even when my thoughts and actions scream it out loud for the whole Kingdom to hear.

Nothing much has changed between us? Oh, who am I kidding? _Everything_ has changed. People talk in awe of how Wolfram has matured into his best. But, equally momentous are the changes in my feelings.

In the beginning, it was sheer denial and an unhealthy load of prejudice. But even my best efforts at denial cannot hide the fact that I find Wolf attractive — _very_ attractive — from the very first moment I laid eyes on him. And, no, I’m not at all exaggerating. I may be a fool in love, but I’m not speaking in extravagant hyperboles like one.

Wolf is an angel sent from heaven to torture and torment the Demon King. Of course, being an angel, even his harshest acts are meant for the good of his charge. He is my saving grace, through and through. No, he’s not a creature of the Bible, if you think that’s what I’m getting at — he’s a pure-blooded Mazoku of a most ancient and noble family. What I’m trying to say is that he is in every way my opposite. He’s the angel to my demon. The fire to my water, literally. The regal royal crown prince to my average humble wimpy commoner. Others have always said that we complement each other, balance each other out perfectly. And I wholeheartedly agree, for the most part. Except that he completes me more than I can ever be for him. I trust him completely. When it matters most, he always comes through. Together, we always pull through whatever we get thrown into. I can go on for ever on the topic of his virtues — and being Mazoku, I might actually have the time, too.

Sure, we’ve had our share of quarrels. But what is an epic love story without its downs? They say the best love stories begin with some form of hate. Without knowing darkness, how can you fully appreciate the light? I’m not saying I want a tragedy in our story, like ‘Romeo and Juliet’, or, I suppose being in Shin Makoku, ‘Romero and Argent’. Call it cliche, but this is _my_ story.

‘SHIBUYA YUURI! What in Shin Makoku are you doing still avoiding the subject of your engagement, then?!’ I hear you screaming at me.

You see, love, in all its capitalised glory, is something sacred, to be treated most delicately with great reverence. I know, I’m spouting nonsense again. But I never thought I would think of love that way, until — well — until Wolfram. He deserves the very best. I’m not sure — I can’t be certain — that I am — if I can be — if I can even come anywhere near to ever being good enough for him. Our engagement … it ties him down to me. And no matter how you look at it, it was unintentional on both our parts, getting engaged, despite how things have changed. But because Wolf is the epitome of pride and honour, and because he is an angel with a kind heart and gentle soul, he is going to see it through, no matter my faults and unworthiness. I can’t … I just can’t trap him like that. Oh, heck! Now I’m reminded of the tale of ‘Beauty and the Beast’. I’m sure you can tell who is supposed to be whom in this context. And, no, Wolf, my Wolf, is not supposed to be paralleled to the pack of wolves that, I just recall, hang out in the wilderness around the Beast’s castle. Let’s stick to the two titular characters!

I’ve always had a bit of an inferiority complex. Being surrounded by all these quite literally inhuman beauties only heightens the feeling, in spite of their twisted sense of aesthetics about double-blacks. Being next to Wolfram, though, brings it to entirely different levels. I don’t need to tell you, it’s not just his super-bishounen looks, it’s all his virtues and everything about him. And it’s not his fault at all. In fact, he always tells me, in his unique roundabout way, that I am more than adequate, whenever my insecurities show. It’s always what I need to hear. But all I can think is how I don’t deserve him. How can I, a mere mortal, for lack of a better term, ever be worthy of my angel? They say demons aren’t allowed in angels’ heaven, after all.

And this has been my torment for months. How much I love him … so much, that I just can’t. It’s easier, far easier, despite how painful it can be, simply to stick to the old familiar patterns. And so, I’ve continued playing the ‘but we’re both guys’ and ‘it was an accident’ cards, even though they’ve lost all their defence power, and have long since hold no meaning whatsoever to me.

Yet, I’m a selfish demon when it comes to it. Many around me believe that the reason I haven’t broken off the engagement despite all my obnoxious complaints is that I don’t want to hurt Wolf’s feelings. I may have said so myself, but the truth is not at all so selfless as that … far from it. Because, in choosing what’s easy, I shied away from considering that maybe … maybe I’ve been making it worse and hurting Wolf. I can’t tie him down. But, neither can I let him go … I can’t lose him. The Beast is a stronger and far better person than I’ll ever be, because he finds the will to let Belle go. But this is Wolf’s and my story — I’m a Mazoku, not a beast of that depiction; Wolf is a von Bielefeld, not what Belle-felt. And I’ve been choosing to do what’s easy, falling into an uneasy limbo, as Murata puts it.

But … I guess … what’s easy doesn’t necessarily make it right. Murata’s right on that. And I owe it to my angel to do right by him. In a way, I would also be doing right by me, myself, as Murata seemed to have been impressing on me. Because he’s right that I’m not happy about it all (no, I refuse to use that overused ‘u’ word) and just being fine isn’t enough anymore; that a mere apology isn’t going to cut it this time; that avoidance isn’t the answer; that—! Actually, he’s right about it all, as expected of the once Great Sage … but he is first and foremost my best friend with my best interest as a person at heart. So … I set myself to solving the no-brainer, not-much-of-a conundrum that surely even a muscle-brain type like myself should be able to work out, right…?

“Your Majesty, should we perhaps start on our way home?” Conrad’s question brought me crashing back to the there and then.

I looked up and saw the sun beginning to show signs of setting. I blinked. Wow, I didn’t realise I’d spent half the afternoon just thinking about Wolf. He does that to me … sometimes, I would find myself sailing through dreaded tasks in no time just by allowing my thoughts to range freely, and, inevitably, they always end up with him.

“Er, yeah … shall we, then?” I said sheepishly.

“That’s probably a good idea if we want to make it back for dinner in good time,” chipped in Murata. “Not that they would start dinner with the whole royal company absent!”

“Right,” I said distractedly. I was thinking quickly. If I wanted to make things right with Wolf, it had to be now. I’ve dragged my clumsy feet long enough already. Sitting on and stewing over this one is only going to make things that much harder. I was steeling my nerves and gathering my courage, all the while giving myself a stern pep talk.

“All right, then,” said Conrad, as they swiftly packed up. “Let me just go and get Wolfram. Then we can be off—”

“NO!” I burst out, startling even myself.

“Your Majesty?” asked Gunter in surprise.

I took a deep breath and looked around.

“I’ll—I’ll go get Wolf,” I said, sounding almost faint.

“Are you sure, Yuuri?” Conrad checked.

“Yes … yes, I’m sure.” I cleared my throat and injected some certainty into my tone. “In fact, you guys go on ahead. Wolf and I will catch up with you later.”

At this, everyone looked up at me. Conrad looked mildly concerned, Gunter downright worried. Murata had an immediate look of understanding; he was probably the only one who knew exactly what was going on in my head. Greta looked over with a hopeful beaming expression from where she was helping Gwendal clear up the mini-maze they’d made earlier. And Gwendal … did you even have to ask? He was frowning, of course!

“I do hope you are planning to stay out of trouble, Your Majesty,” he grumbled. “If you send the rest of us ahead, no one will be there to protect you, should the occasion arise. You’re not even in disguise.”

“Gwendal’s right, Your Majesty,” Conrad agreed, though I could see a smile making its way onto his face. “Perhaps one of us should stay behind and wait for you, just in case.”

“We’ll be fine!” I insisted, waving my hand dismissively. “Wolfram is more than capable of protecting the both of us. Have some faith in him! Geez! He’s got a whole case full of bearbee pooh paints in there. Worst comes to worst, we’ll just splat anyone intending us harm with them. Anyone with a functional sense of smell would collapse from puking long before they can try anything!”

“But, Your Majesty, if Wolfram is somehow incapacitated—”

“Daddy is strong and capable!” Greta interrupted Gunter fiercely, before he could get any further. “Daddy and Papa will protect each other!”

“Thank you, Greta, that means a lot!” I walked over and hugged her. “And don’t worry,” I spoke in a low voice only for her ears. “I’m going to try and fix things with Daddy, OK?”

“Promise?”

“I promise I’ll try very hard,” I said, ruffling her hair. “I just hope it’ll all work out. Wish me luck …”

“It _will_ work out! Greta just knows it will!” She skipped around happily.

“Shibuya and the Princess are right,” Murata was saying to the others. “They ought to be fine. Besides, we’re practically in the Castle’s backyard!”

Reluctantly, they agreed.

“Oh, hang on!” I made for the basket in which the fruits were packed before they can whisk it away to the horses.

“Sure! Here, you can be in charge of this!” said Murata cheerily, handing it over to me. “And this, too, if you don’t mind!” He thrust another picnic basket at me, this one containing the pies and sandwiches.

“What?” I stumbled; my hands full, trying to balance both baskets. As usual, the kitchens prepared way too much food, seeing as both baskets were still substantially heavy.

“That’s your share of the load to carry home!” explained Murata cheerfully, eyes glinting in mischief. “Yours and Lord von Bielefeld’s! You didn’t think you could just get away without work, did you? Our company is down by two horses for the job!”

I was actually just going to get one apple. Instead, I ended up with not one, but two baskets of food!

I sighed. No point arguing with Murata, especially when he looked so gleeful. “I’ll just leave them with our horses, then.”

“Oh, no, you don’t! You’ll do no such thing!” Murata said in a poor imitation of a fussy elementary school teacher, complete with the finger wagging. “That would be irresponsible of you, Shibuya. What if they go missing? That’s no way to appreciate the castle kitchen staff’s hard work, is that?”

“Fine!” I submitted. He clapped me on the back encouragingly and waved me on my way, before moving to join the rest. I would have refused further if I hadn’t been so preoccupied with getting to Wolf as soon as possible. So, without giving it much thought, I lugged my food luggage up the hill, while the others prepared to leave.

As I trudged up the half-a-mile or so, I ran through all the things I might say — I wanted to say — when I see Wolf. I felt like I was marching off to battle, with the overwhelming anxiety over the outcome that I was feeling, on top of the exertion of going uphill with the load I was bearing. ‘All is fair in love and war’, huh? I wondered vaguely if this is where the saying comes from. Who decided to compare love with war, anyway? I mean, I get that they’re both similar in many ways, but while I stand steadfast by my absolute rejection of war, I am willing to sacrifice for love. Ahh, I can’t believe I just said that — not that I don’t mean it, because I do — but can I get any more out of character?! Gah!!! Or rather, maybe … not at all … out of character … if you read between the lines … beneath the surface … deep down…?

When I was near the top, I looked up and dropped the baskets at my sides, my breath catching in dazed wonder. There before me was a sight to behold … and what a sight it was! Everything I thought I would say flew off the hill, leaving my mind completely blank in awe.

It really is astounding how Lord Wolfram von Bielefeld never ceases to stun me senseless — every time I see him — even though we spend so much time together — just the mere sight of him is more than enough to … enough to … to … well … you get the idea.

He was completely absorbed by his work and had yet to notice he had company.

“Wolf…!” I called softly, trying not to startle him. My voice came out breathless and slightly hoarse.

“Hmm…? Oh — Yuuri, it’s you …”

As he looked up, I bent over to reach into one of the baskets, looking, for all the world, like I was bowing to him.

“Wimp! Don’t do that!” he scolded. If he hadn’t been encumbered by art materials — surrounded as he was by opened jars and tubes and tools I couldn’t name — I’m sure he would have ran down to yank me up by the ears or something.As it was, he contented himself with nagging away. I let him, while I searched for the best apple I could find in the fruit basket. “You are the Demon King! A king should _never_ bow to _anyone, ever_! You really should think through and be careful of your every move and gesture. This is just you looking highly undignified. Any other slip, albeit ignorant and innocent, might very well end up a disaster, like—”

I shook my head vehemently at him. I knew where that was going. Our engagement. The slap. He was going to cite our engagement as an example of my ignorant actions gone south. And I didn’t want him to say it — partly because I completely disagree — mainly, though, I cannot bear to hear him call it a disaster … because if he meant it, it would destroy everything I was trying to work for and work towards right then.

“Don’t you shake your head at me. You know I have a point. In fact, just this afternoon—”

Just then, I straightened, having found what I was looking for, and he suddenly stopped short, seeing what I held in my hands. His large eyes widened in surprise, before settling into an uneasy alertness. His posture seemed a mixture of defeat and defensiveness.

“Yuuri?” he said wearily. “What are you doing—?”

“Wolf…?” I said pleadingly. I fell into my throwing position. He was a good ten to fifteen metres away — and uphill, at that! But I was going to make it — I had to! If only he would be glad to receive it. But just as I was about to throw—

“No! DON’T!” he cried in panic. He closed his eyes, looking distraught.

It felt like my heart was bleeding from a thousand cuts by red-hot knives that were coated with poison. As expected of his noble soul, he wouldn’t allow me to make a fool of myself. Better to just stop me and save me the humiliation of being rejected. My eyes stung; I could feel hot tears coming. I looked at him sadly, with a deep sense of longing. Guess it would come to nothing after all … I really should have known. I wanted so badly to beg … to beg him to give me a chance, undeserving as I am. But I wouldn’t. Not because it’s beneath me — not at all! Like Wolf keeps reminding me, I am an undignified wimp. If it were just me, I would have thrown myself at his feet in less than a heartbeat. But that would be selfish of me. I couldn’t do it because it would only hurt and trouble Wolf. It’s hard enough as it was — I wasn’t going to add to his discomfort. I opened my mouth to apologise … for what, I wasn’t sure exactly … but nothing came out. I am a wimp, after all. I shrugged, valiantly attempting to retreat to my fallback position, where I would typically force out my trademark light-hearted behaviour, as I usually do when dealing with awkward situations, especially when Wolf is concerned. Again, nothing came.

“Don’t do it … unless you mean it …” he whispered distantly. His voice was heavy with an emotion I couldn’t discern. He wasn’t looking at me; his gaze fixed on a point just above my head.

How kind he is … even then. Despite all the labels of selfish Prince he gets, deep down he really is too kind, to not be able to bear seeing the pain of others.

I felt my knees shaking. Hot, wet tears were busy recreating the Ginga and Ryusei Falls. And, no, the irony of it did not cross my mind, that those falls are known as the ‘Husband and Wife’ Waterfall (or shouldn’t it be Husband and Husband…?). I choked, feeling like I was drowning. I clutched the apple to my chest in misery, as if to staunch the wounds in my heart. You might think I was overreacting, but it’s not every guy who gets so utterly shattered by his first love … and Wolf _is_ my first, and only love; I just know he’s also my last.

My pain and distress must have caught his attention — after all, he is ever so sensitive to my every need — because he finally looked me in the eyes, and started in surprise.

“Yuuri…!” This time, his voice was tender, filled with wonder and with — dare I say … dare I even hope — was that — love…? “Well …” he almost drawled out, as he stood gracefully to his feet. In that moment, I could see a spark of his trademark haughty arrogance that I have come to adore. “I suppose anyone can see that you _do_ , in fact, _mean_ it from your heart. Well, then?”

He held out his hands in his signature post whenever he calls on his element. In spite of how I was feeling, I really wished he would apply his artistic skills in the realism style and paint a full-length portrait of himself in that moment. A truly angelic picture … with the glorious sunset surrounding him like a spotlight … the gentle breeze caressing his luxurious, thick 24-karat gold hair … his emerald green eyes, that remind me of the bottom of the most enchanting lake, sparkling vibrantly with the dancing flames of his soul … his white, flawless skin that seem to glow softly …! Yeah, I told you so, he’s the most gorgeous person both worlds have ever seen. I could lose myself, just looking at him … I wish I could just forget everything else and stay for ever in that moment of awe … but I couldn’t.

“But …” I said, still holding the apple close as if it were a lifeline. “You—you don’t … right?” I felt so lost, and was having difficulty stringing together a full sentence.

“I don’t … what?” he prompted gently.

“You don’t mean it—” my voice caught, “—e—e—even if I do — and I do, by the way, with everything I am — but you don’t mean it the same way …” I forced out a brave smile, even though it was torture. “It—it’s OK … you don’t have to—”

“What are you gabbling on about, wimp?” he said, almost crossly. “Of course I do, more than you ever know. You really are hopelessly dense and oblivious, if you think otherwise. But that’s what makes you so endearing. Now, are you going to throw me that apple or what?”

He really is confusing. Shouri and Murata would say it is his premium quality as the ultimate tsundere. But what it does to me, is to make my heart skip a beat, every time.

“Wolf … but …”

On seeing my hesitation, his expression started becoming guarded again, and it felt like he was about to close me out. I don’t ever want him to close me out. I wanted to throw myself into his arms and beg and bawl like a baby.

“ _Only_ if you _truly_ mean it, Yuuri. I won’t have your wimpy kind self just being nice to spare my feelings, and especially _not_ if it’s out of pressure, direct or indirect, from our daughter or my brothers or anyone else.”

I spluttered incoherently, trying to get out a hundred different things at once.

“D—don’t call me a wi—! Well — yeah — I guess I am a stupid wimp when it comes to—! Hang on! What?! Spare—? Feelings—? You think I’m just — that—that I’m just being _nice_? That I’m being pressured? How—? What—? Who—? Why would you even—?” Gah, I sound like a total idiot. It felt like there was an explosion of multiple different emotions in me — and my poor, already overloaded brain just couldn’t handle it, short-circuiting my thought and speech coherency. “Not mean—?! Not truly mean it—?! ME? You mean you, right? You’re—you’re talking about yourself, right? You’re too kind and honourable to even—! I already told you, I mean it — mean it with everything — my body, mind, heart, soul, my very essence, every infinitesimal grain of my being — everything I am! _Everything_ , Wolf! You can’t possibly—!” I took a deep breath, sorting through my thoughts and words. I’d been, as Wolf put it, gabbling on and on and on … but still, I have yet to say it, that which is the very heart of the matter. I shut my eyes in fear of seeing his reaction to what I was about to say … if he should find it unwelcomed. “You can’t possibly think … that I … that I don’t lo—love you…?” These last words were spoken softly, my voice cracking with the effort of holding back more tears. “And … to think that … you just called me ‘hopelessly dense and oblivious’…! Now who’s gabbling?”

“You?”

“Wha—what?” My eyes flew open, and I stared at him.

“ _You_ are!” He looked amused. I gaped open-mouthed at him. “Well, you _were_!” he said half defensively, half playfully. “That was a highly accurate live demonstration of the definition of ‘gabbling’, Yuuri … no exaggerations, I assure you.”

“Wolf — that hurts — how can you be so unfeeling?!” I cried.

But then he smiled — a genuine smile … the smile that lights my every particle on fire, even though that’s his element, not mine … a sweet and gentle and radiant smile.

“I am never the unfeeling one. I’m supposed to be the spoilt brat, remember? The one always ruled by emotions.” He flicked his golden hair off his face, and fixed me with an intense look. “Now, come on, wimp, I’m waiting!”

“You’re not a spoilt brat …” I muttered. Wow, that must have been a first — me protesting against his ‘brat’ nickname, instead of my own ‘wimp’ one. It’s the truth, though, I haven’t thought of him as a brat for quite a while.

“Hurry up, Yuuri! Stop making your fiance stand here waiting like a fool!”

Finally, I felt a small smile creep onto my face. I looked into Wolf’s beautiful eyes, took a deep breath, focused, and threw the apple. It soared in a perfect arc towards Wolf. He leaned forwards slightly, gaze calculating and intense with anticipation. He reached out, and caught it gracefully, wrapping his elegant fingers around the fruit tenderly, as if it were the most precious jewel, all the while maintaining eye-contact with me. His smile was dazzling. Ah, now I really want that portrait done! It really is too bad I got a 2 in art — and that’s a 2 out of 5 … as in … a bad grade — a very far cry from what Gunter would have you believe, that it means second best artist in Japan or something outrageous like that.

“Well?” He lifted an eyebrow at me, after several moments of us simply looking at each other.

“Huh?” I said stupidly, coming out of my trance.

He smirked. “Are you just going to stand there all evening?”

“I—er—erm—” I just realised I had simply stood there, marvelling at what just happened. What _did_ just happen, anyway? I wasn’t exactly sure, either. I mean, what did that mean for us? Where did it leave us? I got the feeling that, while I seemed to have achieved something at that point, we were only just at the beginning of something new. This was unfamiliar territory. It was now up to us — up to me — to brave the unknown and discover great things. Gosh, I sound like an explorer out in the ruins of some ancient city, seeking out its mysteries and hidden treasures. And I don’t feel like drawing analogies between that and our situation.

I smiled tentatively at him, and joined him on a patch of grass free from art materials. We were sitting right on the peak of the large hill, with our backs to the capitol and the city. If we turned around, we would get a majestic view of Blood Pledge Castle. From where we were, though, it was forests and mountains as far as the eyes could see, blanketed by the most magnificent sunset. It was a serene and awe-inspiring view. Something about the golden green expanse made me turn my head to look at the definition of gold and green personified from my personal dictionary, and found Wolf studying me with a curious but gentle expression.

He lifted a hand, the one not holding the apple, and gently brushed away the remnants of tears on my face. Despite the fact that he had just been painting, his hands were immaculate — he really is a refined prince. My usual response to such attention would have been to squirm away. But not this time. I let him … in fact, I enjoyed his soft touch, as I unconsciously leaned into it. Our eyes met. I swallowed and looked down at the apple in his hand.

“Are you … not … going to…?” I gestured at the fruit.

“Hmm…?” He followed my gaze.

“Since you — y’know — you didn’t really have any from that first one …”

“Oh, that…? Yeah.” He lifted a shoulder and took a bite of the apple.

I watched him for a moment, then steeled myself and reached out to cup my right hand over his and brought the apple to my lips. I felt a little nervous about how he might take it. He stared at me in shock, as I deliberately took a bite right off where he had just bitten. Somehow, I felt really happy doing it. I chewed slowly, savouring the feel of the area where he had bitten. I looked at him, hoping I’d gotten through to him.

“Did you just do that on purpose?” he said slowly, as if seeking reassurance, though I really don't see how I could have done that accidentally. “You do realise that was—”

“An indirect kiss?” I finished for him, blushing slightly. “Yeah, I do. I do realise that, Wolf, and, yes, I did it on purpose.”

He continued to stare at me, as if he didn’t know what to make of me. I couldn’t blame him, given everything.

“Y’know, when you fed your first apple to your horse, all I could think of was how that’s an indirect kiss from you…!” I sheepishly ran a hand through my hair. “And — well — I don’t like the thought.”

“My … horse…? Really?” He looked as if torn between bursting out laughing in derision or yelling at me for accusing him of such an indecent thing. Finally, he settled for an amused smirk, his lips twitching. “Oh, no, we can’t have that, can we?”

“No, we can’t,” I replied, unfazed by his sarcasm.

He smiled and took a turn at the apple, keeping eye-contact while he did what I’d just done and deliberately bit off where I had bitten. And so we continued … sitting side by side, watching the beautiful sunset … all the while kind of sort of holding hands over the apple … slowly sharing it, bite after bite, indirect kiss after indirect kiss … until it had gotten quite difficult, as the apple shrank to its core … until we were practically nibbling off each other’s hand to get to the fruit.

Finally, all that was left was the bare core of the apple. I watched Wolf, as he looked at it with a slightly rueful expression.

“Wolf, what is it?” I pulled him out of his thoughts, gently touching the inside of his wrist. “I can go get another, if you’d like one — Murata made me bring along the whole fruit basket!”

“That’s not it at all …” he said, stroking the core.

“Then, what is it?” I asked, concerned I might have done something wrong.

“That was nice …”

Yes, that was very nice, I agreed silently, and perhaps ‘nice’ didn’t quite capture the warm fluffy fuzzy feeling—! Waahh, don’t tell me this is when they tell you ‘that was nice … but that’s the end of it … it’s over … it’s not going to work out …’ …???!!! That would be too cruel. Please, _PLEASE_ don’t let there be a ‘but’!

“But …” AAHHH! He said it — no, no, NO — he said it—! “It’s rather quite sad we can’t keep this.”

“Huh?” I cried out in pleasant surprise. He glanced at me, probably thinking I was confused about what he meant. Little did he know I was weak with relief—! Gosh, Wolf, you really had me terrified there! He simply continued, oblivious to my inner thoughts.

“As a remembrance,” he explained, “a souvenir of the memory we shared today.” And then he had to go and say something like that!

I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by affectionate emotions. Now I was weak with a whole other reason — I could feel my heart melting and overflowing like the water that is my predominant element. How does he do it, so effortlessly? Without even trying — without even knowing it — he just does. That glasses guy Murata would probably tease me mercilessly about true love and all, but for once, I’m not going to disagree with him … at all. I really wanted to kiss my angel then, but … could I?

Next to me, I felt Wolf rise to his feet.

“Where are you going?” I asked quickly. I looked up at him, just as he slid a dagger out from one of his boots. “Eh? What’s wrong?” I jumped to my feet and looked around urgently, scanning for the threat that prompted Wolfram to draw a weapon.

“Calm down, Yuuri,” he chuckled. “You should know by now that, had we been under attack, my first weapon of choice would be my sword.” He tapped the hilt of his sword at his waist.

I pouted slightly. I know that … of course I do! I’d seen him fight and protect me with it way too many times than was healthy for my poor worrying heart. So how was I to know this time was any different? Who does that, just casually pluck a dagger out for no reason, anyway? And for a moment back there, when I thought Wolf had sensed a threat, I could hear in my head the ominous sound of Gwendal’s deep rumbling voice booming out ‘I TOLD YOU SO’ to the Love Theme from ‘The Godfather’ — scary! — he did warn me, after all, about our safety.

Wolf crouched down, back where we sat sharing the apple just now — dagger in one hand, apple core in the other — and started making a hole in the ground. I stared at him, not comprehending.

“Wolf, what—?” Then it hit me. I smiled, feeling that warmth in my chest, and joined him. This was, after all, something we should do together …

After we’d planted the apple core, we watered the area, and set about to making sure that it would have the best conditions to grow. I remember the plant projects I did in school and everything I learnt about plant-growing. I’m not known to have particularly green fingers — hey, at least my plants didn’t wilt and shrivel away like some of the other students’! You should have seen some of them — looked like they were watered with battery acids or Poison Lady chemicals. Mine weren’t flourishing, per se, but they did survive the school year. But, maybe this time …

We finished our work just as the sun slipped off the horizon. Wolf had a smile of joy and satisfaction on his angelic face, as he gazed proudly at our handiwork. Caught in the picture perfect moment, I couldn’t help myself.

“Wolf …” I called softly, unwilling to disturb the peaceful perfection.

“Yes, Yuuri?” He looked at me. As I gazed into the depths of the bottom of the lake, I leaned in and reached out and tenderly touched his cheek, the one I slapped all those months ago, that most precious spot …

“I … I understand now that this … all this, with the apple … that that’s just symbolisms … imageries … and it is up to us to make of it what we will, not the other way around, as I seem to have gotten all wrong this afternoon — wait — I’m not making sense, am I?”

“It’s all right, Yuuri, I get it.” He patted my hand that was still on his left cheek affectionately. Ah, my poor heart was melting again!

“And about that poisoned apple — it wasn’t flung at her; unlike with us, she picked it from the basket herself, if I recall correctly. I also seem to recall the evil witch only poisoned one of the many apples — what were the odds! Ah, but that’s not what I’m trying to say…!” Typical Yuuri, even now I was rambling. “What I’m trying to say is that … well … that’s not symbolic for us. A—and, anyway, she doesn’t actually die … because—because she is revived with … a … k—kiss! So — er — y’know — you — I mean, we — I mean, I — I would — c—can I—?” Argh, I was working myself up into a frenzy over nothing! OK, so it is _not_ nothing. But where is that heat coming from? The sun had set, so why did it feel like my face was thrust up next to a blazing fire?

His delicate lips twitched in amusement. Ah, please don’t laugh, Wolf! How are you supposed to say you so badly want to make those indirect kisses — well — direct?! We were so close, I could make out individual eyelashes. Ah, those long, golden eyelashes … so elegant, sweeping over his porcelain cheeks, as he leaned even closer and looked at me through lowered eyelids. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of nervous anticipation, I closed the distance between us.

I let my eyes fall shut, overwhelmed by the sensation of my fiance’s warm, soft, sweet lips. It was heaven in its greatest paradigm. For one crazy second, I thought I must have died from nervous joy and gone to heaven, or whatever the Mazoku version of it is. Because when our lips met, the last afterglow of the sunset faded away, and the skies burst in a fiery explosion of dazzling lights, as the stars made their sparkling appearance and the moon its majestic entrance.

Instinctively, I wrapped my left arm around his back, while my other hand luxuriated in his silky hair. I pulled him against me, even as he did the same to me.

We drew back slightly for breath, but only slightly so that our lips were still lightly touching. I admired the heavenly vision before me, with my beloved angel in my arms, and the skies like they shone especially beautifully just for us tonight.

“The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” I whispered against his lips, and I could feel him tremble in response. But, somehow, I felt that poetic line, sentimentally perfect as it is, just wouldn’t do. My Wolf, with his honest and endearingly blunt character, deserves to hear it as it is, not for me to hide shyly behind metaphors and double-meanings. “Wolf, I love you.” I caressed his angelic face lovingly, reassuring myself he’s here in my embrace. It felt so right.

He smiled. “That is honest of you,” he commented without heat. “Though, I guess, I do know it … even if it did take you long enough to muster the courage to say it.” Ah, Wolf, our perfect moment just wouldn’t be complete without your characteristic tsundere cuteness. “And I, — I love you, Yuuri.” I could hear the depth of his feelings in those words — and I feel it, too.

We kissed again.

Afterwards — which really could have been anywhere between a few minutes or several hours later, because time becomes irrelevant when we’re together — I reluctantly suggested we head back home. Somehow, he persuaded me to stay just a little longer, as we lay there on the grass, looking up at the infinite night sky, enjoying each other’s company. But, then I got worried.

“Wolf, you’ve hardly eaten anything!” Absorbed as he was in reading and later painting, unlike the rest of us who had been continually feasting and snacking. “We’ve got to get you back for dinner. And besides — as much as I want to just stay here with you, because I really don’t want this to end so soon — the others are bound to get worried…!”

“Yuuri, if you really think we should go back now, then we will,” he said seriously. “Because this between us isn’t going to just ‘end’, you got that? Don’t think you’re dusting me off that easily!”

My heart did a happy flip, and I choked on my surprised laughter. “Wo—olf—!”

“You wimp …” He muttered, rolling his eyes and thumping my back. “Can’t even handle a little affection from the one you asked to marry…! What am I going to do with you?”

Ah, but coming from you, I would greedily swallow every little bit you give, down to the last drop. Instead, “Er … marry, I suppose …” was my cheeky response to his rhetorical question on what to do with me, though I’d spoken too quietly for him to hear me.

“And as for causing the others worry, you really shouldn’t be concerned about that. I would be very surprised if they didn’t send someone to watch over and guard you from afar. Probably someone like Josak. Barring unforeseen circumstances, there are always highly trained guards trailing you.”

“Eh!!! You mean we were being watched all along?” I yelped.

“Relax, Yuuri, they do respect your privacy. It’s for your protection. They guard you from a distance for your safety. But they don’t scrutinise your movements — they are not here to spy on you, their King — or they would find themselves burned to a crisp!” He glared at our surroundings, as if contemplating sending out a warning blast of flames. “At any rate, what is there to be ashamed about being seen with your fiance?”

“But I’m not alone — I’ve got you — you’re with me!” As far as I’m concerned, I’m safe, wherever I am, as long as Wolf is there with me. “And It’s not about being ashamed, it’s just — why can’t they just trust you, like I do?” And anyway, I added in my head, certain things are only for you, just you, no one else.

We ended up extending our private picnic late into the night, as I remembered we still had food left. How lucky! Aha, we were back to my strategy of reducing the load we had to carry home, which turned out to be fortunate, because—

“Yuuri, where is Ao?”

We were making our way downhill with all our stuff, when Wolf noticed his horse waiting all alone.

“What?! Huahh! Where could she have gone? She was right there when I left the others!” I started looking around frantically. “Could this be a case of horse theft? Poor Ao, she must be so frightened! Wait — does that mean this is a crime scene? Wolf, don’t — you shouldn’t interfere with a crime scene, in case there are any evidence—”

“Calm down!” He was crouching and studying the ground intently. “While it isn’t at all absurd for someone to steal the Maou’s steed — an all black one, at that — I don't think this is the case here.”

“Ehh? How can you be sure?”

He indicated the ground he had been scrutinising. He looked calm enough to pull a Kudo Shinichi!

“Ao left with the other horses, judging by the impressions left by her horseshoes, which look like they were made at the same time as the rest, and the fact that there are no overlapping of marks, nor are there any leading in a different direction. If a thief took Ao in the direction of Blood Pledge Castle or the city, they would have to be extremely foolish, because your horse is sure to be recognised. No, my guess is that the others must have a reason for taking Ao with them.”

“Hehh … that makes sense. Maybe one of the other horses got sick or something … and they would have to take Ao, because she is a gentle soul. No offence, Wolf, but I don't think anyone else can easily manage your horse!”

“Hmph! Whatever the reason, you’ll have to ride with me.”

I smiled. It’s not like I’m not already used to it, anyway. I wrapped my arms around his hips — no, not my hips around his arms, though I would so like to — and buried my face in his golden locks, inhaling deeply. I allowed myself to slide forwards, as close to him as I could possibly get, when we trotted downhill. We rode at a leisurely pace, even though Wolf generally enjoys wild rides, but tonight’s ride was exciting in its own way. Although we were, as Murata puts it, ‘in the Castle’s backyard’, it still took us over an hour to reach home where it would ordinarily have taken half as long, and I’m not complaining.

It was late past midnight when we entered the stables. I hurriedly went and checked Ao’s stall, and, to my relief, found her there, resting contentedly. I murmured how glad I was to see her, and was about to turn around to leave and join Wolf, when I saw it. A note, written in the bold handwriting of my cheeky-as-heck best friend!!! I blushed furiously at its content. Thank goodness Murata had the sense to write it in Japanese — though I can’t decide whether that’s because he actually wanted to spare me the humiliating embarrassment from anyone who might read it in the Shin Makoku writing, or because he wanted to make sure I was able to fully comprehend the message (given my mediocrity in the Shin Makoku language) and die of embarrassment! With him, you can never tell!

“What does it say?” Just my luck! Wolf was looking over my shoulder! “It’s from His Eminence, isn’t it?”

“Uhhh … yeah!” I squeaked in alarm.

“Well?”

“N—nothing — he’s just explaining that they brought Ao home!” Which was technically true.

Wolfram crossed his arms, giving me a stern look that said he wasn’t buying it. Coming from him, that look makes you want to confess to anything! “So, why are you blushing, then? And that wouldn’t make sense, Yuuri, it would have been more sensible to leave the note with my horse, not here.”

I groaned. As expected of my sharp-witted fiance, nothing gets pass him.

“He—he says he hopes we enjoyed the ride … you know … like … um … in an — in an … intimate manner …”

That wasn’t the exact message, but Wolf got the gist of it, I think, judging by the flash in his eyes. What the note really said was:

**Yo, Shibuya!**

**Hope you enjoyed the ride back home! Though, I seriously doubt you would enjoy it anywhere near as much as the _ride_ to come later tonight — assuming, of course, that you haven’t already!** (Unbelievable! He actually drew a winky face here! UGHH! And — what’s that? He’d circled the word ‘ride’ in the latter sentence in a — was that supposed to be a heart, or was it a rude tongue sticking out? It looked more like the heart, as in the organ in our body, than a heart, as in the romantic shape!)

**Have FUN!!!** (Another winky face?! There were three, this time! So much for being a genius — can’t this guy draw any other emojis?)

**P.S. Ao’s fine, though you probably already know that, if you’re reading this!**

I groaned again, pressing my forehead into Wolf’s shoulder to hide my blush that just refused to go away.

We left the stables hand-in-hand, heading towards the kitchens through the Castle’s gardens. We could have just gotten a staff member to deliver the food baskets back to the kitchens for us, but we thought it was a nice excuse to take a moonlit stroll. I was staring at Wolf more than the moon or the gardens, though. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn’t seem to get rid of Murata’s note — which was not at all helpful, given the situation. I was so engrossed by my thoughts that I didn’t see the oncoming collision, as we were walking past a shaded path to the orchards, a stone’s throw away from the kitchens.

“Yuuri!” Wolfram shouted, dropping the things he was carrying and grabbing me before I could hit the person. So basically, I only stumbled a little without even crashing, but the other person tripped and fell in surprise.

“Your Majesty?!” she squeaked from the ground. Ahh, it was one of the maids. Now that the chaos had calmed down, I could see why she didn’t see me coming.

She had been carrying a gigantic basket of apples that piled so high, she could barely see ahead, let alone peripherally! She must be really strong to carry such a heavy load! Ah, but I’ve long learnt not to ever underestimate anyone here in Shin Makoku — like Anissina, for instance. She may be petite — but don’t let that fool you — she’s stronger than many of the men around here!

“Oh, Your Majesty, I’m so sorry — I didn’t see you there!” she cried, hurriedly picking herself off the ground to bow.

“No, no!” I waved my hands genially. “It’s as much my fault! Here, let me help you pick them up. You’re taking them to the kitchens, right?”

She nodded. The three of us set about gathering the fallen apples back into the basket. Some of them had rolled away into the hedges lining the path the girl just came from. I put down the picnic baskets I was carrying, and went after those.

There were just a little too many for me to carry them in my arms back to the others, so I thought to take a shortcut and throw them straight into the basket, which the girl had picked up. But before I could, Wolfram looked up and saw what I was about to do. He cleared his throat pointedly, and I froze. I suddenly realised what it would look like — not that it would mean anything beyond Wolf and me, and I’d rather keep it special between the two of us, anyway.

I took a step back. I would have raised my hands in a placating gesture, but they were currently full. The girl looked from Wolfram to me and back again in confusion.

“Um … Wolf?”

Now he had his hands on his hips, lips pursed tightly. But I could see his expressive eyes dancing, pleased by my thoughtfulness. So I could tell he was fighting a smile.

“Eh? No fireballs?” I grinned, looking into his eyes. For a moment he simply stared back. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he raised his hand and an infamous fireball appeared. Ah, much better, that’s more familiar — but wait — the ball spun and, instead, took shape into an apple — a fire-apple! It’s an apple made of Wolf’s golden flames, complete with stem and a couple of leaves on top.

The girl, whom we had all but forgotten, gasped in wonder. And no wonder — it was beautiful! As you can expect from a skilled magic wielder like my Wolf.

I gave him a meaningful look that sparkled with challenge, because I knew he would get it, and turned on my heels and ran. I should probably feel bad for not completing our original task and abandoning our things there. But that was literally a few feet from the kitchen doors … so they shouldn’t have too much problem. The truth was, none of that was on my mind, as I dashed through the hallways. The kitchen staff and anyone else who saw us tearing down the Castle corridors would probably just shake their heads in amusement, thinking we were up to our usual antics. Oh, but they had no idea just how different it was this time. And it’s not just the fact that the fireball had taken on a much cuter shape! For one, I was running to be caught, and I was running straight to our bedroom.

I dove in, dropped the apples I was still carrying onto the couch, and grabbed straight for my baseball mitt. I shoved them on at top speed. I spun around to face the door just as Wolfram burst in, fire-apple still held aloft. Without saying a word, I held my hands out for a catch. He looked at me to see if I was sure about this. I was, and he knew it. So he threw. The fire-apple flew gracefully across the room, trailing a blazing golden arc, straight into my outstretched hands. The display was better and much more impressive than fireworks!

So maybe it kind of began with an apple … but it’s really all about my Wolf, my angel!


	2. Murakenzu Extra!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little behind the scenes with Murakenzu's Muraken!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer:  
> Don't own, don't own, don't own, don't own, don't own! *cries*  
> Oh and Murakenzu is not my creation, either, I didn't make it up! But I do find them entertaining in the source materials.

Murata: “Good evening! This is your Muraken from Murakenzu! Sparkle, sparkle!!!”

Yuuri: “What? This again? Ah, good evening. This is Shibuya.”

Murata: “Come on, Shibuya, you should be giving them the sparkles, not the gloom! How old are you, really?”

Yuuri: “Eh? But you’ve given them more than enough sparkles already!”

Murata: “True, true. Maybe that’s the key to our success as a comedy duo! Gotta play the gloomy and sparkly contrasts to the max!”

Yuuri: “But I didn’t agree to this comedy duo thing! I just want to enjoy my pie in peace.”

Murata: “Eh? Pie? Is that a carrot pie? Or a pineapple pie? Ah, don’t tell me … it’s an apple pie! What happen to not eating too much sweet stuff? And that just one doughnut a day plus an orange juice combo? Ah, but this is apple juice! Shibuya, you sure are going with the theme, aren’t you? I see … someone sure is feeling nostalgic today!”

Yuuri: “Theme? What theme? Matching dessert and beverage can hardly be called a theme. As for the nostalgia, could it be you’re referring to that day last summer when I finally memorised your phone number? Hehhh, I mean, I _did_ take half of your pie!” *Grins sheepishly*

Murata: “Aww, Shibuya, you’re making me blush redder than Lady von Karbelnikoff’s hair!” *Dramatically holds hands up to cheeks* “To think you remember a moment we shared…! But stop yanking my delicate heartstrings, we both know what, or rather who, you’re really feeling nostalgic for. Ah, love!” *Sighs dreamily* “But, really, Shibuya, it’s like you’re suffering from severe angel withdrawal symptoms, ever since we came back to Earth!”

Yuuri: “Uwah! You know that sounds very suspicious, right? Like some code phrase for drugs or some other shady business! And I vowed to never ever take substances!”

Murata: “But they say love is like a drug, right? It’s been said so many times in songs and poetry that it’s become quite the cliche. So, there must be some truth in it — and that’s why I wonder if that is what you’re experiencing. Ah, but then you’ve forsworn such substances, which goes to show just how much your relationship with Lord von Bielefeld is _not_ a cliche!” *Swoons fan-style* “You need to maintain yourself completely clean, because you’re a responsible lover, right? Because it’s not just your own health at stake, it’s also your partner’s! How thoughtful and caring!”

Yuuri: *Blushes furiously, muttering to himself* “Well, he’s not wrong — though I’d still forswear substances, regardless.” *To Murata* “Ugh, what’s with you and your suggestive remarks?! Which reminds me, did you really have to leave that note? In the first place, was that your idea to take Ao back, and leave Wolf and me with just one horse?”

Murata: “What a distrustful mind you have, Shibuya, to suspect your own innocent best friend like that!” *Grins cheekily* “Ah, just think of it as a congratulatory present from your best friend!”

Yuuri: “Aha? I don't know how your brains reach that thought. But what I really want to know is how you manage to convince the others to play along?”

Murata: “Well — if you’re really so curious about it …”

As he turned to leave, he paused to call over his shoulder, “Oh, and don’t get too upset about it, Shibuya, or Lord von Bielefeld will be really upset!” The look on Shibuya’s face was priceless, as he bemoaned his love troubles.

Chuckling, he strolled away, leaving Shibuya to his own thoughts, which would undoubtedly be in quite a state of turmoil. That was necessary, though he didn’t enjoy stressing his best friend out like that. OK — maybe just a tiny bit. Still … it was hard to watch the friend you care most about silently waging war against his own insecurities.

Murata had observed how Shibuya acts around his fiance, from the very first time he saw them together. Being the expert at reading between the lines, even invisible ones, he’d immediately realised just how important the former Prince was to his best friend. He could tell Shibuya was still figuring it out. But as he gradually worked out just how much he felt for the Mazoku noble, so too did he come to the conclusion that he’s undeserving of his angel, a burden that would only cause suffering, or something to that effect.

Of course, Shibuya never said it outright, but one doesn’t really need to be a genius to be able to tell just how far the guy has fallen, especially when his actions so obviously contradict his loud denials — and even those denials were losing gas, getting lamer and lamer by the day. Like today, for instance, Murata had seen Shibuya’s face fall in disappointment when Lord von Bielefeld declined to join in on the fruit feasting, and how it lit right back up when the Prince moved closer to him, albeit still absorbed in reading. Even more heart-warming was the strangely soft expression he wore when watching his fiance and passing random bits of fruits to him. And when, on the matter of the apple, he got so worked up over something that would ordinarily be laughed off … well … let’s just say, it really was obvious. Not to mention how upset he got when he thought Lord von Bielefeld was about to leave or go sulking off. Oh, and by any chance, was he the only one who saw that series of complex expressions that crossed Shibuya’s face when the third son fed his bitten apple to the horse, and later when he left to go and paint the scenery? Mmm-hmm? Right. It’s time Shibuya faced, perhaps not the music, but the bearbee pooh paints. And so Murata did what he does best — he can’t help it if he gets some amusement out of it!

But … as much as he laughs and teases his best friend about it all, Murata only really ever had one goal, and that is to always support his best friend no matter what, as Shibuya and Murata, and not for mere political agenda. Unlike what others might think and contrary to what that stupid cunning dead man had hoped, he isn’t here to play the role of Shinou’s sage or whatever. It is he, Murata Ken and not that long-haired bastard they call Great Sage from four thousand years ago, who chooses who he is and how he wants to live his life, and that is _not_ to play the chess pieces for that self-important dead man. Murata would do anything, scheme any what way, to fulfil whatever Shibuya wants to achieve, as a person, with all the compassion of his just soul. Many would argue that that is a fine line indeed, because how can one distinguish political agenda from one’s true self when they are both in positions of such power and respect? To which Murata would argue otherwise. But, this is not the appropriate time and place to be having that debate!

Right now, Shibuya was a friend in need. So, as a friend indeed, Murata would be there for him. And that would begin with him rummaging through the various picnic baskets, casually looking like he was enjoying the variety of delectable cuisines. Honestly, he didn’t expect any less from Lord von Christ, who had ensured that their little picnic would be fit for a king, quite literally, until it was more like a state banquet served outdoors! Praise the Royal Advisor! That made it so much easier for him to stow away some food into a basket he had emptied of its contents, without attracting attention. He carefully selected dishes that were not finger-friendly, like that crumbly meat pie or that creamy fish stew Lord von Bielefeld seems to be partial to. He also made sure to pack in some desserts and drinks. By the time he was done, the basket was weighing quite substantially.

You’re going to owe me one for this, Shibuya, or at least you had better! After all, you can arrange a date for your friend, but it is up to that friend himself to go on that date.

It’s not like he’s interfering with Shibuya’s love life or playing matchmaker…! Shibuya did his own matchmaking all by himself just fine, he snorted to himself. All he did was to nudge his friend in the right direction, to give him that tiny push of courage. And wow oh wow, what a push he needs, sometimes, thought Murata, and it’s not just those pushes into random bodies of water, either.

When it comes to his sense of justice and compassion for others, Shibuya is always confident and passionate. But where matters of the heart are concerned, he’s scared and unsure. No one can blame him, really … with adolescence comes inexperience and insecurities in the package! Add that to the fact that certain stigmas were bound to leave impressions on a young mind — the fear of being an outcast, etc — and — well — Shibuya really has it tough. That said, though, he has been progressing well in terms of growing out of those prejudices. It helps that he has a very open-minded family.

What held him back right now was his insecurities. What with him being the Maou and all, sometimes people forget that underneath all that, Shibuya is only a young teenage boy, who wholeheartedly believes he’s just an average kid. Yes, humility is the greatest quality one can hope for in a king, but in this instance, it’s different. The heart of it was that Shibuya believes his fiance deserves better, that he isn’t enough. And as for the constant denials — come on — loads of young teens everywhere are shy and awkward and confused about their feelings, and would scream their denial, in every way they can think of, for everyone to hear, no matter their sexual orientations! It’s perfectly normal to fear rejection and doubt everything else!

It doesn’t help that Lord von Bielefeld Wolfram is, by most standards, the epitome of perfection in so many ways. The fact that Shibuya sees past his supposed flaws only makes him seem more of an untouchable star, or whatever else Shibuya might call him … ‘angel’, was it? And perhaps Lord von Bielefeld’s constant nagging over Shibuya’s need for improvement, while crucial in his progress and development, might have, inadvertently, in some way fuel Shibuya’s conviction that he is far from being good enough. It further doesn’t help that Lord von Bielefeld is strangely understanding and does not push Shibuya to come out straight with his feelings, like he does with so many other things, choosing instead to allow him to come to terms with them in his own time and manner. Nor does His Excellency force anything relationship-wise on him — well — apart from the ‘I am your fiance’ and the ‘no flirting, no cheating’ thing! Oh — and also the sleep in his bed thing — which amuses Murata to no end! But apart from all that, Lord von Bielefeld is a perfect gentleman. Unfortunately, like so many misunderstandings between couples, Shibuya probably thought that his fiance doesn’t feel the same way, and is only going through with it out of duty or honour.

Well, there may be hope for them yet! Hopefully, after the events of this afternoon, while not entirely out of the ordinary, Shibuya would work things out already!

“Uncle Ken?” A small voice pulled him out of his thoughts. It was the little Princess. “What are you doing with all that?”

“It seems I have been caught with my hands in the cookie jar!” he laughed fondly, offerring her the literal jar he had just been about to put away.

Greta giggled, as she accepted the cookies. “I meant that…!” She waved at the basket he was careful to keep close.

He knew that was what she meant, but it was cute, nonetheless. This little girl for whom he has as much affection as if she were his niece … Shibuya, in his most thoughtful act as Murata Ken’s best friend, had declared firmly, when he introduced him to his daughter, that Murata is a part of the family, to be treated and respected as her own uncle. That really warmed Murata’s heart, because he understood that Shibuya knows he would not otherwise have the pleasure of being an uncle, given he’s an only child, and that Shibuya was telling his daughter not to treat his best friend as the Great Sage as everyone else seems to do.

“Ah, that …” he threw a glance at her morose father before lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Can you keep a secret?” She nodded solemnly. “What do you say we set your parents up for a … uh … an evening out?”

“Like a date?!” Her eyes were sparkling with excitement. “That’ll be so sweet and romantic!” She clapped her hands together. “Greta loves that idea!”

He wouldn’t have thought she’d be all excited over romance, seeing as her role model was Lady von Karbelnikoff. Guess he should have known, somehow she does take a little after her own grandmother after all — or should he say ‘grandmothers’?

“I should probably be a little alarmed at how fast you’re growing up, young lady! You know how your Daddy and Papa will be all miserable to hear their baby so casually talking about dates and romance!”

“But this isn’t about Greta going on a date — it’s about them! Even Greta can tell Papa and Daddy are in love.” Here she made a face — half exasperated, half intriguingly disgusted — that young children pull whenever grown-ups around them act all mushy. “They are happiest when they’re together!”

GOAL, thought Murata, score one to the daughter, nil to both fathers! And Muraken is one heck of a kick-butt referee!

“You’re right. That’s why we’ll get them to hang out afterwards. Besides, your Papa can do with some cheering up!” He jerked his head towards Shibuya, who was still staring blankly into the distance, absently toying with his half-eaten apple that he never finished in all that drama.

Greta’s face fell as she glanced over at her father. “Is it Greta’s fault?” she asked in a small voice. She tugged almost desperately on his sleeve. “Uncle Ken, is it all my fault Papa and Daddy are upset with each other?”

“No, Greta, of course not!” he hurriedly assured her, kneeling in front of her and grasping her shoulders, so that they were eye-to-eye. “You are their beloved daughter; they love you very much. But their relationship is for the couple to work out between them. It is perfectly normal — healthy, even — to have some … difficulties in a relationship. And it is for them, and only the two of them, to figure it out. They might occasionally require external encouragement to get it right, but, ultimately, it is the two people in that relationship and their love for each other that make the relationship work. You are their pride and joy that bring them closer to each other. _Never_ let yourself think you are the wedge between your parents. Remember that!”

“But … it is sort of my fault … I _did_ cause their fight…!”

“Now, why would you say that?”

“Because I brought the apple-throwing custom up, when Papa Yuuri clearly had no such thought. Greta got over-excited and made conclusions, forcing Papa and Daddy into an awkward situation. And—and because of that, they got into a fight!”

She looked close to tears by then. Murata rubbed her shoulders comfortingly, while stealing a quick glance to see if any of the others were alerted by her distress. They weren’t. Lord von Voltaire and Lord Weller had joined Lord von Christ and were busy talking among themselves, and Shibuya was still lost in thought.

“Ah, but if that were the case, then it can also be said that it’s _my_ fault! Because, if you recall, I was the one who kept pressing and arguing your Papa into a corner. So that would make it even more my fault than yours!” He grinned. “But, before that, it’s also my fault for bringing the apples to your Papa’s attention, in the very beginning. I made him try one, then of course he had to share the joy of it with your Daddy! And while we’re on the matter, I guess you can blame me for getting you those books for Christmas.” Though Shibuya can then be blamed for introducing Christmas and present-giving to Shin Makoku, he added silently. “Oh, and I did read them to you, making it doubly my fault that you learnt of the custom!”

Damn, his list of faults was endless! He wonders vaguely if that is why they always believe him to be behind everything interesting that ever happens — something that he’d always find annoying. He may be a strategist, but he’s not a puppet master, damn it!

Greta gaped at him, horrified. Quite a good imitation of Shibuya himself whenever Murata slaps down his winning cards, so to speak.

“But, Uncle Ken, that can’t be right! Th—that has nothing to do with the situation! I mean, maybe just a little, like you said it. But none of them is really the cause …”

“Exactly! And that’s why it is not your fault, and you shouldn’t be blaming yourself. Otherwise, all of us will be at fault for something or other. You remember what I told your Papa about the thread of fate connecting everything and everyone? Because if we’re searching for blames and faults, there will be no end to it!”

OK, perhaps that is a touch too idealistic. Murata does not believe in a world completely free from faults and blames. That’s more Shibuya’s expertise. But hanging around his best friend has made him want to believe in it too, if only just a little. And he knew Shibuya would want his daughter to grow up with those values of kindness.

“And I wouldn’t say that was a fight, Princess, just a bit of exercise to draw out complicated emotions that couples in love get into — y’know — a little build-up before the best bits!” he added with a wink. “I’m sure it’ll only strengthen their bonds. You’ll see!”

The little girl took a moment to think about it. Then she smiled, the clouds clearing from her expression. “Thank you, Uncle Ken!”

She skipped away cheerfully, only to return a moment later, dragging the fruit basket with her.

“You forgot to pack some of these in!” she said by way of explanation, lifting the lid and gesturing to the apples within. “I was watching you pack the food, and you didn’t include any apples.”

Sharp observation! And here he thought he was being discreet … she would make an excellent Trap Lady.

“You’re right, but why …?”

“Oh, I just thought that since Papa Yuuri might feel like he needs to make it up to Daddy Wolf, he can use apples to do that!”

Ingenious, thought Murata, to think of using the very subject that started the disagreement to fix it! “You know, that’s a really good idea, Princess!”

There’s just one problem, though, his basket was already quite full. He’d just have to make Shibuya deal with both baskets.

He looked up at the sky and noted that the sun would soon be setting. “Right, time to get things going, then!” he thought aloud.

“OK, what do we do now?” Greta was practically bouncing with eagerness.

“First, why don’t you go and suggest to the others that it’s time to go.”

“All right, and I’ll make sure to be subtle!”

Sure enough, a moment later Lord Weller was approaching Shibuya, asking if they should start for home. They were all taken by surprise when Shibuya insisted quite determinedly that he wanted to be the one to go and get his fiance (well, Murata kind of expected something like that) — and even more so when he decided, of his own volition, to extend their outing, just the two of them. Why, Shibuya, good on you! He’d just made it easy for Murata!

“Oh, hang on!” Shibuya scrambled for the fruit basket. So, he has had that idea, too, huh? This just got better and better!

“Sure! Here, you can be in charge of this!” said Murata cheerily, grabbing the opening to thrust the baskets at Shibuya. “And this, too, if you don’t mind!”

“What?”

As Shibuya stumbled in surprise, trying to balance both baskets, Murata plucked the half-eaten apple out of his grasp. Murata seriously doubt if he even remembered he still had it, so that went unnoticed. It’s not like he was going to finish it, anyway.

“That’s your share of the load to carry home! Yours and Lord von Bielefeld’s! You didn’t think you could just get away without work, did you? Our company is down by two horses for the job!”

“I’ll just leave them with our horses, then.”

“Oh, no, you don’t! You’ll do no such thing!” That would completely defeat the whole purpose, and Murata couldn’t have that! “That would be irresponsible of you, Shibuya. What if they go missing? That’s no way to appreciate the castle kitchen staff’s hard work, is that?”

“Fine!” he submitted.

Murata clapped his friend on the back in silent encouragement and waved him on his way. He watched as Shibuya disappeared up the hill, after his fiance. He really hoped the two would make things work between them.

“It worked, Uncle Ken!” chirped Greta happily, also watching her father.

He grinned. Then, he looked down and saw the apple he was still holding, and an idea occurred to him. They were about ready to leave, so he walked over to Shibuya’s steed.

“Greta,” he called. “How would you like to have a go at riding on your own?”

“YES!” she cried enthusiastically. She had ridden there with Lord von Bielefeld, and was about to mount up with Lord von Voltaire. But, at Murata’s suggestion, she ran over to her Daddy’s horse.

“Oh, I don't think so,” Murata shook his head and waved her over to where he was standing by Ao. The thought of that little kid attempting to ride Lord von Bielefeld’s horse on her own would give him nightmares. “Why don’t you ride Ao instead?”

“But — that’s Yuuri’s horse …”

“Wait — Your Eminence, the Princess is right! That is His Majesty the Maou’s horse—!”

“And Greta is the Maou’s daughter,” Murata argued, cutting Lord von Christ off.

“I don't have any objections to Greta riding the King’s horse,” said Lord von Voltaire, “but, Greta, are you sure you want to ride on your own?”

“Yeah, Uncle Gwen! Greta has been taking lessons, I’ll be fine!”

Murata gave her the thumbs-up and passed her the apple. “Here — you can feed Ao this!”

And so they made their way back to Blood Pledge Castle. The three elder Mazokus were hovering close to Greta. They all knew, if anything happened to her, they would have both Shibuya and Lord von Bielefeld to answer to. And from what Murata has heard of Ao, gentle though she may be, she did get spooked and threw Shibuya off on his very first day at the Castle! So, he supposed their worries were not entirely unwarranted.

When they reached town, Lord Weller departed from the group, saying something about assignments and Josak. Murata had a pretty good idea what that was about.

They got back just fine. Greta was cooing to Ao, promising her lots of treats.

“But wouldn’t Papa Yuuri be worried when he finds Ao missing, though, Uncle Ken?”

A bit late to worry about that, Murata thought, because they weren’t going to go all the way back. Instead, he convinced her it would be all right, and that her Papa would enjoy riding with her Daddy, which cheered her up immediately.

“Tell you what, I’ll leave him a note somewhere to tell him not to worry.” So he borrowed some writing materials from Lord von Christ … trust the Royal Tutor to carry writing implements with him at all times! He chuckled to himself at the message he was writing, adding winky faces to make his points. He’d started drawing a heart shape at one point, but considering Lord von Bielefeld might see it, he quickly modified it into what he hoped looked like a tongue sticking out. Knowing him, he might think Murata was leaving a love note for his fiance. Murata really didn’t feel like having his sorry hide roasted.

“Well, come call me when they return for dinner,” grumbled Lord von Voltaire. “I’ll be in the office.”

“Oh, then you might be waiting until tomorrow,” said Murata, grinning. “I’m betting the next meal they join us for will be lunch.”

“What do you mean, Your Eminence?” asked Lord von Christ worriedly.

“I don't think Shibuya and Lord von Bielefeld will be joining us for dinner.”

“Papa and Daddy are on a romantic night out!” exclaimed Greta happily.

At this, the Royal Tutor and Advisor started wailing about the innocence of his precious King and also the purity of the Princess’s mind!

Several hours later, Murata, Greta and Lord Weller were hanging out on one of the Castle’s grand balconies, high above the gardens. It was past bedtime for Greta, but she refused to go to bed until she saw her parents return. Not that she was worried about them, it was more her curiosity to see how things have worked out between them. To be honest, Murata was curious too. And that was why the two of them decided to camp out on the balcony. Lord Weller joined them some time later to watch for his godson and little brother’s safe return.

When the royal couple eventually returned, taking their own sweet time through the gardens, Greta could barely hold back her squeal of delight. The two were weighed down with stuff, but they were still holding hands. Lord Weller started to get up, intending to give them a hand with the things they were carrying, but Murata stopped him from interrupting their time alone.

They watched as Shibuya nearly crash into one of the maids, and the three scrambling around collecting the scattered apples. At one point, Shibuya made to throw the apples he’d picked up into the basket, but one look from Lord von Bielefeld froze him mid-action. Hmm, wonder what that was really about?

Then, Shibuya said something with a grin, and in response, Lord von Bielefeld summoned a fireball, but with a smile on his face. To their great surprise, instead of flinching, Shibuya’s smile widened. Lord von Bielefeld twitched his index finger slightly and the fireball transformed into a fire-apple! Greta gasped in admiration at the beauty of her Daddy’s magic.

Below, Shibuya and his fiance looked at each other intently … something passed between them, silent but meaningful … before Shibuya turned and ran, Lord von Bielefeld hot on his heels. But Murata could tell that this was not the usual run-and-chase. It looked like they were having fun, running around and chasing as children would, and not running for fear of being burned. And Murata was sure Shibuya had slowed his pace at corners to make sure Lord von Bielefeld didn’t lose him. Soon they’d disappeared into the Castle and out of their sight.

Behind them on the balcony came a low chuckle. “Never fail to be entertaining, those two, do they?” They turned and saw Josak.

“Josak, everything went well then?”

“What do you think? They look more than fine, don’t they, Captain?” Josak grinned with a suggestive wink. “You should trust them more. Not that I’m complaining, of course — I got free front-seat view of the young master’s romantic evening, after all! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to pour a whole year’s worth of salary and then some into His Majesty’s Spec-Oc!”

Lord Weller just shook his head and smiled. “Come on, Greta, now you really need to go to bed.”

They left the balcony together, each feeling pleased and happy for their beloved King.

Yuuri: “Eeek! So it _was_ Josak?”

Murata: “That’s what you got out of that?”

Yuuri: “Yeah, well — geez, I don't know if I should be annoyed or honoured that they needed the Kingdom’s top spy to spy on me. But, you’re right, you’re right! I should be concerned about my little girl learning your traits!”

Murata: “I think you’re not giving your daughter enough credit — what else did you expect from a prospective Trap Lady? And that’s not my point. Come on, Shibuya, give us the juicy inside scoop behind the theme you’ve been going with!”

Yuuri: “That theme again? I already told you, one matching dessert and drink can’t really be called a theme. And what is there to say about my choice of flavour?”

Murata: “Oh, I wouldn’t say there isn’t a theme here … you’ve had the whole apple thing going since that picnic on the hills! And it’s not just that…! I heard Lord von Bielefeld and you are partnering in a plant-growing project. Rumour has it that it’s an apple tree you’re growing!”

Yuuri: “Where do you get all these? Ah, whatever! No harm to it, I guess. Yes, it’s an apple tree.”

Murata: “On the top of the hill? Let me guess, does this apple tree have to do with that evening you spent together after the rest of us went back?”

Yuuri: *Blushes* “Er …”

Murata: “Was it a particular apple that you took the seeds to plant?”

Yuuri: *Blushes even redder* “Uh…!”

Murata: “Hmm, something juicy must have happened! Your face is really red! You never did tell me how your date went, and how you made it up to him! Come on, don’t I get any details?”

Yuuri: “Nothing happened, OK? Just … stuff …”

Murata: “Whoa there, Shibuya, there is a huge difference between ‘nothing’ and ‘just stuff’! With the way you’re being so secretive about it, I’ll have no choice but to rely on my imagination and suspect the worst — or should I say the best?” *Grins cheekily*

Yuuri: “Uh, cut it out! We just shared an apple, all right? And then we planted the core.”

Murata: “Did you throw that apple at him … y’know … to make your declaration?”

Yuuri: “Y—yeah, I did.”

Murata: “Wow, how sweet! That apple tree is born out of your love for each other! Shibuya, the apple tree is your love child with Lord von Bielefeld!”

Yuuri: “Wait — what?! I mean, I—I guess it’s kind of like that, isn’t it? But … ah … I must have the strangest family in both worlds…! Me, the Maou with a human Mom, with Wolfram, a pure-blooded Mazoku — and together we have a human child, bearbee children, and now an apple tree love child! But I won’t worry about it. What’s important is we’re family and …” *Mutters to himself* “I love them all!”

Murata: “Did you say something there? Well, I’m glad it worked out well! Did you enjoy your dinner date? You got to share a romantic dinner, feeding one another!”

Yuuri: “Wha—! How do you know about that? Now I’m convinced Josak really was spying on our every move!”

Murata: “No, no, Shibuya, you mustn’t blame Josak for this! I _did_ pack your dinner for you, remember? Of course I’m well aware that there was only one spork in there! And none of the food could be eaten by hand!”

Yuuri: “Ugh, trust you to think of fine details like that, Murata!”

Murata: “Hey, you _did_ enjoy that, didn’t you?”

Yuuri: “Yes … I did. Thank you, I guess…!”

Murata: *Winks* “Any time, my friend, any time! So, back to the apple theme. What about that apple made of Lord von Bielefeld’s flame? I saw that glass jar on the shelf where you display your important things in your royal chambers. Is that the same one that Lord von Bielefeld chased you with in there?”

Yuuri: “Yes, actually. After I caught it that night, Wolf kept it in shape until the next day. We thought it would be a shame to let it vanish … y’know. But I didn’t want him to be sustaining it for all time — that would surely drain him! So, we went to Anissina to see if she might have anything that might help preserve it.”

Murata: “I see, so that jar is a MA-powered device of some sort?”

Yuuri: “She calls it ‘Store-and-Maintain-Magical-Forms’-kun … it was originally meant to store up and regenerate magical energy and function as a sort of battery, but the regenerating part didn’t work. So she called it a failure. But she was delighted we’re putting it to good use.”

Murata: “I’m really impressed, Shibuya, your love with Lord von Bielefeld really is all-encompassing … to think it even makes the Poison Lady happy! Seriously, though, Shibuya,” *Becomes serious* “I’m really happy for you, and I’m so proud of you!”

Yuuri: “Ah, Murata … thanks…! Though, you do sound like an old man when you talk like that!”

Murata: *Laughs* “Thank you for joining us today! This has been Murakenzu, brought to you with lots of angelic love! Don’t forget to eat those apples! Until next time!” *Bows*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so overall I tried very hard to capture Yuuri's narrrating voice. Yuuri's narrations are the best! But ... I'm afraid ... my law-style writing is still showing! *sweat-drop* I guess, old habits die hard ...? Ah, well!

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically a one-shot with a Murakenzu Extra afterwards.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [IF THIS BE THE MA!SYMBOL OF LOVE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29727807) by [Alexandria_Lin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandria_Lin/pseuds/Alexandria_Lin)




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